


SC4: The Book

by floosilver8



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Sherlolly - Freeform, Sherlolly Cafe Awards 2014, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 05:01:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2375543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floosilver8/pseuds/floosilver8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SC4: Molly finds Sherlock reading one of her romance novels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	SC4: The Book

**Author's Note:**

> The contest rules limited the entries to no more than 2,000 words...however, I had already written over 4,000 when I realised this. So I've posted the full-length fic here, now that we're being revealed. Enjoy!

_SC4: Molly finds Sherlock reading one of her romance novels._

Molly arrived at her flat several hours after her shift was supposed to have ended. She was tired and hungry, and in desperate need of a change of pace. It had all been much the same for months. _Mundane, repetitive, vanilla._

After flicking the bolt lock on, she drops her bag, hangs her coat on its hook and picks the post up off the floor. _Adverts, junk, nothingness._ Only when she turns toward the sitting room does she finally notice the other presence in her flat. No, not her loyal calico Toby, someone much larger and with far less fur.

“Sherlock!” she gasps. “You startled me. Is...is everything alright?”

“Fine, Molly,” he replies from his place on the settee. The glow from the tablet computer he was holding illuminates his face, defining his perfect cheekbones even further. Without looking up, he slips off his shoes and reclines into the cushions, still blankly focused on the small screen.

“Is that...” Molly took a few steps toward him, “Is that my eReader?”

“Well spotted,” Sherlock replies dully.

“O...kay,” her voice betrays her trepidation at letting him use it. It wasn’t that she thought he would break it – though that was a real concern, he’d always replaced the things he’d broken – it was what he might find on it that had her so worried.

“Problem?” he asks, finally giving her a sideways glance.

“No...no,” she tried to keep her tone relaxed, “it’s fine. You just...make yourself comfortable. Umm...tea?”

“If you’re making it,” he accepts, returning his attention to the screen.

“Have you eaten?” she asks, knowing he likely hadn’t and would refuse as it was.

“Whatever you make for yourself will be fine.”

“Right. Left over curry it is.” Molly busied herself in the kitchen, reheating the food and getting the tea sorted.

She really had no reason to be embarrassed by her eReader’s library. She was an adult. It was all perfectly natural. ...And there were plenty of subscriptions to medical journals, other professional periodicals, and perfectly ordinary literature that he would likely go to first. _Yes. The periodicals, that’s probably what had him so interested._

“Have you read about the tape worm study yet?” she tries, leaning on the threshold of both rooms. He doesn't respond so she resumes her task.

Just as the microwave dings and the kettle clicks off, Sherlock appears in the doorway, still holding the eReader. Without taking his eyes away from the screen he takes the two pieces of naan out of the oven where Molly had put them in to crisp and warm. She’d forgotten to set the timer and they likely would have burnt had she waited much longer.

“Oh, thank you. Um, have a seat. I’ll just fix your plate.” Molly had to concentrate on keeping her breathing normal. They had spent more and more time together over the years, but he still set her heart aflutter sometimes. Most times. It could be really jarring to see his perfect face appear out of nowhere.

Molly finally sat, after fixing them both a serving of the curry. The instant the plate is placed in front of him, Sherlock finally puts down the device - face up, at Molly’s elbow.

She hazards a glance at the screen while reaching for a serviette, and couldn’t stop the gasp from escaping her throat. Frozen in place she reads the title at the top of the screen, _The Boss_. It takes her a second to realise that Sherlock was similarly not moving. His left hand clutches his fork and his right is clenched into a fist next to where the eReader rests.

“I um...” Molly attempts futilely to recover. Desperately, she tries to calculate how far he could have reasonably gotten in the very erotic book. Her collection of romance novels was reasonably small and tended to be much more on the soft and fluffy side of the spectrum. Of all the ones to choose, he had to pick _that_ one! The one with the spanking and hard fucking. _Oh, God._ Prim and reserved Sherlock Holmes had read about BDSM from her own library! She feels suddenly sick with embarrassment.

“Please excuse me,” she says quickly, shaking slightly as she stood.

“Molly!” Sherlock blurts and jumps up to stop her leaving the room. He boxes her in against the cabinets, blocking her escape route.

She can't look him in the eye, and desperately prays for a sinkhole to swallow her up forever. Whatever abuse he was going to fling at her could just go unsaid. It’s not like she needed any more help in feeling horrible at the moment. “Please just don’t, Sherlock,” she manages to whisper, “Okay? I couldn’t take the insults right now.”

She tries again to push past him but is startled when his hands grasp her arms and hold her firmly in place. The shock causes her to instinctively struggle for a second before settling, though she still keeps her eyes directed to the floor - or anywhere else besides at him. His left hand releases her arm gently and slowly reaches back to the table to pick up the offending device.

He holds it up as if preparing for a recitation, and in fact clears his throat a second later to begin in his thick baritone, “ _Brushing back a lock of my hair from the top of my breast, he leaned down and took one nipple into his mouth....’I think I will spank you tonight,’ he said, his voice low and full of wicked promises. ‘If you are a very, very good girl.’_ ”

Molly holds her breath and trembles in spite of her desire to remain perfectly still. Sherlock leans slightly further into her, his left foot shifting to rest between hers, his knee brushing her inner thigh. She can’t hold her breath anymore and inhales slowly and audibly.

He taps on the screen, apparently skipping ahead in the story, “ _When his hand connected with my backside, it shocked me. It was no love tap, but a stinging hot slap. ... I jerked, muffling my groan in the bed.  
    ‘Harder or softer?’ He leaned down and brushed his lips over the burning spot he’d created._ ”

Molly’s breath comes in hard, short drags, her heart pounds in her ribcage and throat as Sherlock leans closer and closer. She could feel his body heat, and when the fabric of his shirt brushes her hand she almost jumps.

“ _‘Harder,’_ ” he finishes, his voice thick and raspy.

He lowers the tablet slightly as he towers over her. Finally directing his gaze to her face, he whispers, “You like to imagine being dominated in bed, Molly?”

The question catches her off guard and she finally snaps her eyes up to meet his. His pupils are blown wide, the beautiful blue-green irises almost nonexistent. She swallows hard and licks her lips before she can speak. “Sometimes,” she breathes.

“Sometimes?” His eyes flick down to her lips and back up, and Molly finally notices the pulse beating heavily in his neck. All signs point to his being just as affected by their close proximity and candid conversation.

“Yes...” she says very reluctantly. “Other times...I imagine it’s me...having the power.”

Sherlock takes a shaky breath while lifting his chin and blinks slowly. Turning his eyes to her ear, he rakes them down to where their chests are mere centimetres apart. “And who,” he swallows, “...do you imagine is your partner?”

Her face instantly grows hot with a flush that spreads and radiates through her skin. She can’t say it. It was bad enough that he had gotten her to talk about her fantasy bedroom activities at all! She couldn’t possibly tell him the truth...that it was always him. “I...” she tries to speak but falters and gulps for air.

He sets the reader on work top and brings his hand back to her arm. Drawing small half-circles with his thumbs on her biceps, “I see,” he soothes, trailing his left hand to her shoulder and up the side of her neck to cup the back of her head tenderly. Slowly, he leans his face down to her right side. “And which...position would you prefer to assume tonight?” he whispers softly in her ear

Molly gasps, “Tonight?”

Sherlock pulls away suddenly, keeping his gaze securely on her shoulder. “Do you...have an objection to commencing immediately?” he asks with slight hesitation.

 _Commencing? Commencing what?! Surely not..._ “No,” she manages weakly, wanting to challenge him at whatever game he was playing.

“Good,” he resumes his position, pressing slightly against her and whispering into her ear. “Then let’s start with chapter ten.”

Molly slowly lets out another breath she hadn’t realised she had been holding. She had no idea what exactly had happened in that chapter. All of the kinky sex sort of blurred together after a while - and there were large passages of plot come to think of it.

“Sherlock?” she starts to ask for clarification.

“Ground rules, Molly,” he says definitively. “He gets an idea for what she’d be open to doing and then they begin. Shall we?”

“Oh,” is all she manages to reply, her racing pulse and light head unable to string together coherent thoughts.

“We’ll start off light, of course. Both beginners and all that.”

“Both?” pops out of her mouth before she realises it.

“Mmm,” he nods. “I have to admit I’d always hoped you were the dominate one, but I understand you may want to work up to it - this being a new experience for us in more ways than one. I wouldn’t be averse to changing roles every now and then. Hopefully by-”

“Sherlock,” Molly interjects.

“Hm?” He finally returns his gaze to her eyes and sees the familiar longing burn behind them.

“Shut up and kiss me,” she demands.

His brain doesn’t need any time at all to complete the action. The distance between them is breeched in milliseconds and their lips crash together hungrily. Sherlock cradles her head to keep her in place and steady himself.

They explore each other’s mouths impatiently, nipping at lips and teasing tongues. Her hands find their way to his ribs and hold on with a death grip. They catch their breath when they can, gasping and inhaling sharply as they part only to crash back together.

Molly pushes him away slightly to begin unfastening the buttons of his dress shirt. He watches her work for a second, but soon gets impatient to be rid of it. He has the cuffs undone in a flash and pulls it off over his head like a t-shirt.

They both seem to register the lines they are now crossing. Molly looks up at him wide-eyed and nervous. His dark look shows just how much he wants this. As if to reinforce the idea, he grasps her jaw gingerly and resumes their eager snogging.

Spurred on by his apparent enthusiasm at disrobing, Molly dares to touch his now bare skin. She lays her hands gently at his waist and the instant her hands meet his warm flesh her arousal spikes and she grips him tightly while pulling him in closer.

Even through her jumper she can feel his hardening bulge against her stomach. She swears to herself that when she rises up on her tiptoes it’s to kiss him more easily, but secretly she wants to feel him. No, needs to feel him. Because this is too much - and yet not enough. This is her fantasy come to life and she never wants it to stop.

\--

Sherlock groans at the friction and presses even further into her. “I don’t remember that happening in what I’ve read.”

There is no blood left in his brain and he couldn’t care less. His brain cells could be dying from the lack of oxygen but Molly Hooper was kissing him senseless and touching him. _Oh, God._ She was touching his arse now.

He lets go of her face to reach down, and practically rips the jumper over her head. Her blouse follows quickly after, though slightly more delicately. He has to stop to admire her breasts for a moment. Clad in a black lace bra, they are presented most attractively. He bends his knees to suckle the soft skin of her neck and winds a slow trail to her sternum. His hands follow suit, caressing first her arms, but snaking back up to cup her breasts and tease the edge of her bra with his fingertips.

Molly sighs and moans at his delicate but enthusiastic touch, and nothing in the world has ever sounded so sweet. With a sharp inhale of breath he unhooks and pulls off her bra and sucks one pert, rosy pink nipple into his mouth. Her cry of surprise and arousal sends a rush of pure masculine pride through his body. His fingers massage her other breast firmly, bringing gooseflesh to her skin and gasps from her throat.

He teases the straining buds, nipping, kneading, sucking and licking until she threads her fingers into his hair and tugs just a little too hard. He instantly pulls her hand away by the wrist and holds it over her head. She squirms at first but quickly relaxes and lets out a soft moan. Gripping her other wrist he brings them both up and holds them in place with one hand. Molly’s eyes slide shut as she moans again, her breasts so prettily on display for him. Sherlock squeezes her wrists slightly and she bites her bottom lip with the slight pain of it.

“Is this what you like, Molly?” he whispers, “Hmm? This is how you want to be touched?”

“Oh, God. Yes!” she practically shouts.

He grips her by the waist forcefully with his free hand, making sure she is firmly pressed against the cupboards and counter top. “And what do you want tonight?” he asks breathily, staring at her with heavily lidded eyes.

“I want you to fuck me!” she blurts out.

He lunges forward to capture her mouth hungrily again. “And that you shall have,” he growls against her lips. He releases her hands to wrap his arms around her and lift her up. She hooks her legs behind his back instinctively, holding on to his shoulders with her arms. He turns to walk out of the kitchen and carry her to the bedroom when she pulls away.

“Wait, Sherlock the book.”

It takes him a moment to understand what she means. “Another time! I’ve waited too long for you. We’re doing this my way,” he says, now crossing the distance to her room.

At the edge of the bed, she finds her footing on the floor before he pushes her back into the middle of the mattress. His body covers hers, their bare top halves rubbing tantalisingly together. She brings her hands away from his neck only to unfasten the fly of his trousers and push them down as far as she can reach. He gives her the same treatment almost immediately, kissing a long trail down her chest and belly, stopping to give her breasts an appreciative lick.

Soon they are both in naught but their pants, basking in the warmth of each other’s skin, and hungrily exploring every inch of flesh. Molly tilts her pelvis up to meet his straining erection and Sherlock almost breaks down. The amount of pleasure she can set on fire within him is truly astonishing. He groans and pulls away, taking off her knickers while he does so.

Without a hint of preamble, he buries his face in her dripping wet cunt. He licks long stripes up and down her slit, while holding her thighs apart, his nose tickled by her dark curls.

“Fuck, Sherlock!” she cries and fists the duvet when he finally hits her clit with a flick of his tongue.

“Don’t come, Molly,” he warns. “Not Yet. Tell me when you’re close.” He desperately wants to try out edging at least once. It’s a fairly innocuous act that will always end well, and allows them more time to enjoy each other.

\--

Molly knows exactly what he’s hoping to accomplish and it sets a fresh wave of pure pleasure through her. All of her nerve endings are on fire as he continues his methodical exploration of her sex. She dares to look down at him in action and finds he’s staring back at her darkly. His eyes make her heart clench when she realises how much desire is behind them.

“Close,” she gasps, and Sherlock immediately pulls his face away.

He kisses her inner thighs, trailing down into dangerous territory but staying well outside it. His hands snake up to stroke her stomach tenderly as he waits for her to settle.

“How many times,” she asks after a few seconds.

He considers her for a moment, “Three,” he says with a wicked grin.

Her breath speeds up again and she barely manages to say, “Okay,” before his mouth is on her again.

And again, just as she starts to feel the familiar tingling and throbbing in her groin, she tells him to stop right before she can fall over the edge into bliss. He kisses her knees and smiles as she catches her breath, waiting patiently to resume their game.

“Okay,” she manages again.

He dives in, licking her folds and sucking on her clit enthusiastically. The wave comes in more quickly this time and Molly almost forgets how to speak. “Fuck, wait!” she chokes on the words, squirming away a bit.

Sherlock even seems more reluctant to stop, and gently bites her right thigh as if to compose himself. Molly tenderly threads her fingers into his hair again as she resumes her spot.

“Ready?” he asks softly.

“God, yes,” she smiles.

His attentions are slower now, spreading her wide. His tongue dips down to her opening, and enters in a slow stroke before heading back up to her clit again. With his full mouth buried in her cunt, Molly’s orgasm builds rapidly. Every cell in her body buzzes and cries out for release. Her back arches off the bed as everything seems to concentrate on her pussy and she comes hard with a soft, throaty cry.

After a moment she goes limp and still, catching her breath and basking in the afterglow of one of the best orgasms she’s ever had. Sherlock shifts back up her body, kissing her hips and ribs along the way.

Molly lazily pulls him up and captures his mouth with hers, tasting herself on his lips. It feels wicked and she needs him inside of her immediately.

“Please, Sherlock,” she gasps, rubbing her mound against the rigid line of his cock still trapped in his pants.

He gasps and squeezes her flesh where he holds onto her. A moment later and he’s pulled away to remove his underwear and fish a condom out of her bedside table. Molly sits up quickly to take the foil packet from his hands. He releases a gasp of protest but with her other hand she strokes his length delicately. She grips him by the base and places a soft kiss to the tip, tasting the precum that leaks out.

Sherlock growls and pushes her back, taking the condom again and sheathing himself quickly. “Enough of that!” he warns. “You make a terrible sub! On your hands and knees,” he orders playfully.

Molly assumes the position on the bed, swaying her bum invitingly. Sherlock leans into her, pressing the tip of his hard cock to her folds and drawing it up and down her slit. Molly pushes back slightly, desperate to be finally filled with him.

“Hmm,” Sherlock chuckles. “Greedy?”

“Please,” she begs, her need swelling by the second.

Sherlock answers with a firm slap to her backside. Molly gasps and lurches forward in surprise giggling at the same time. But he holds her in place with his free hand, not letting her get away. He realigns himself with her opening and she shifts to spread herself wider for him.

In a breath he shifts to slip in slowly, stretching her and sending waves of pleasure through them both. He withdraws only slightly and thrusts in again slowly until he’s sure she can handle his size.

Molly reaches back to grasp his thigh encouragingly and he soon picks up a rhythm. They rock together slowly at first, building the pace and urgency with each thrust. Their breaths are heavy and their skin burns with desire.

\--

Sherlock grips her hips firmly, controlling how much of his length he gives her. He’s struck by how beautifully she handled getting this far. Nothing in the world feels as good as Molly, and he wants to experience this high forever. He would never gag or try to stifle her delicious moans. He wants to compose a symphony dedicated to her soft mewls when he’s inside her.

He pulls out suddenly and she gasps at the loss of him. “Turn over,” he explains, and she rolls onto her back, spreading her legs to welcome him back in. He gazes at her for a moment, licking his lips hungrily. He could write a concerto just about her heady flavour.

He positions himself between her legs, lining up his cock and pushing into her hard. Molly throws her head back in a silent gasp and locks her legs behind his thighs, gripping his shoulders with her delicate fingers.

“Oh, God, Molly,” he groans into her shoulder, resuming the quick pace of his thrusts. "You're so fucking gorgeous."

\--

“Sherlock,” she whispers against his cheek, tilting her pelvis at just the right angle to seat him fully inside her with every stroke.

She meets his thrusts and grips him with all of her strength, trying desperately to hold it together. But his cock hits just the right spot over and over, harder and harder, and his stomach grinds against her clit relentlessly. With no warning, Molly’s orgasm hits her with amazing force. Her nerves tighten and explode all at once, her toes curl so hard she’s afraid her joints will dislocate.

Sherlock gasps and holds on to her through it, ready to burst from his own built-up tension. The pulse of her walls contracting with her climax is just what sends Sherlock over the edge a few strokes later. He stiffens and clenches his eyes shut, choking out her name as he comes.

They both collapse then, breathing heavy and riding the final waves of bliss for as long as possible. After a moment, Sherlock pulls out and tosses the condom in the nearby bin without disentangling from her much at all.

Molly caresses his back lazily, holding him close and committing his scent to memory. There is no room for worry or regret in this moment. There is just their sweaty skin pressed together and their hearts beating in rhythm. 

Eventually Sherlock lifts his head to look at her. "Where did you get this book?" he asks with a soft smile.

“Someone recommended it as an alternative to that _50 Shades_ drivel,” she replies drowsily.

“Ah, I see. So, what happens to Neil and Sophie?”

“Ummm, well,” Molly begins outlining the plot of the next two books while Sherlock's eyebrows rise every now and then at important revelations. “...So then they all hug and cry, and the next one - I guess the final one - is out next summer,” she finishes.

Sherlock sits bolt upright, his face falling and his eyes wide. “The series isn’t complete yet?!” he almost shouts.

“Well, no. Not yet,” she rests a reassuring hand on his arm.

“Damnit,” he swears but resumes his place next to her, “I never start a series that isn’t finished. I’m already halfway through the sequel. This is a disaster!”

Molly couldn’t help her giggle spilling out, and a very wicked idea came to her. “We could always...write our own version of the end...to tide you over.”

Sherlock tilts his head up, this time his face registering the brilliant idea. “Oh, Molly! You are a genius. And we are going to need to do a lot of research, and then practise again and again,” he trails off and punctuates each repeated word with a kiss.

They hadn’t discussed at all what their activities meant to their relationship, but neither much cared. They both felt as if a huge weight had been lifted, and that anything was possible as long as they did it together.

**Author's Note:**

>  _[The Boss](http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17373314-the-boss)_ is by Abigail Barnette and you should totally read it if you like kink.


End file.
